


Soldier of Fate

by ElnaK



Series: Books of Lore [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Duty, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Dean comes back from a hunt, covered in blood. It doesn't bother him, or, not that much, to have to wash his hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to do a serie of small stories like that, about characters from various fandoms, all of them killers, none of them monsters... or so they hope.

Dean closed the door behind him, his mind far, far away from the blood stains on his hands and clothes. He had gotten too used to be covered in blood, and he would have worried about it, if he wasn't already past that point of self-questioning. These days, the only things he cared about after such an event was whether or not he'd have to get rid of his clothes, and if anyone had seen him. Being covered in blood didn't feel like a problem to him anymore. The consequences were, but not the fact.

He moved to the sink of the motel's bathroom, and put a hand on the tap. Blood dripped from his middle finger, and splashed an angry scarlet over the dubious white of the sink. Dean stopped moving, his eyes on the red liquid. For a moment, he couldn't even remember to what kind of monster the blood belonged to. It just looked like human blood, after all.

Sam's actions made some kind of noise in the bedroom, on the other side of the wall, and Dean jolted out of his trance.

Slowly, he looked up from his bloodied hand, and found himself staring at his own reflection, tainted in shades of red.

The man in the mirror looked like Dean, but painted with blood. It had been some time since the last occurrence, he thought. It wasn't everyday that a monster was this messy to deal with.

He looked at his left cheek, and wiped a dash of blood with his thumb. His jacket was a mess, but hopefully it wouldn't be completely irrecuperable; because of the rain, Dean had taken a waterproof one. His jeans, on the other hand, were good for the trash can.

He really had to wash his hands first thing, though.

Yeah, Dean was going to do that, and then he'd think about the state his clothes were in.

And, obviously, he'd ignore the real issue with being covered in blood and not caring in the least, as he always did.

After all, this blood came from a beast who only looked human in appearance.

It wasn't even about being a monster or not, actually. Some monsters were human enough to try and live peacefully, without killing unless they had no other choice. Dean had learned it over the years, that not all monsters were inhuman. That some humans were trully monsters too, as it was.

But unlike Sam, who always tried to see the good in everyone and everything, as long as their actions didn't affect him directly, Dean wasn't an optimistic fool. Yes, monsters and humans couldn't be told apart that easily.

It didn't mean that exceptions were the rule. It'd be a bit contradictory, if anything. And semantics aside, things were not that way in reality, point.

Most monsters were monsters.

And someone needed to be there to get rid of them.

Dean didn't particularly like killing things. He wasn't against doing what was needed, true, but he didn't rejoice in being a killer. This blood on his hands, it was here because someone needed to do the job, not because he enjoyed it.

If Dean did it, perhaps it would keep the hands of others clean. Perhaps it had saved lives. Perhaps his innocence had been worth something, all in all.

He only hoped he would never get confused on the reasons he was doing what he did.

Because that blood, running down his fingers as the water swirled it away, down in the sink and into oblivion, it might be a murderous monster's blood, but it still looked damn human. Someone who didn't know Dean, someone who didn't know why he was doing what he did, would only see a murderer, if they were to look at him right now.

Dean knew who he was, and why he was a hunter.

He only hoped he wouldn't ever forget. He hoped that he'd never look at a mirror, and see only a murderer in the stead of his reflection. He hoped this blood, that already seemed familiar and normal for him, it'd never become the blood of an innocent.

But no matter his fears, no matter his doubts, he would not change his ways. He would not regret the lives he had taken. He would not forsake the lives of innocents for his peace of mind.

This blood, it had to be on someone's hands. It might as well be on his.

As usual, Dean washed the blood off his hands.

 


End file.
